Red and Blue
by tenshimagic
Summary: (Previously Anti-Paradigm: AU, eventual shounen-ai, SetoYami) Yami's the Crown Prince but that doesn't mean he's emotionless. There are still people he love and depend on, and they love him back. Unfortunately, it's his Fate to kill them all. Or is it?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I wish.

Author's notes:

This story is an AU; however, I will try to add canon events to keep things together. Background will be added little by little, so please bear with me for now.

Red and Blue

Chapter 1

* * *

It was amazing how just one second's carelessness could destroy work spanning several centuries. That so much time spent planning, waiting, aspiring, could be completely wasted. That a single person could destroy the life's work of so many.

Though, perhaps, it was too much to place all the blame on a single person. If someone had been watching, been even the slightest bit more alert, had even just been _there_ at the time, then, maybe, things wouldn't have gone wrong.

No one had been there.

But, again, it wasn't fair to lay blame on those who had neglected to be there either. It was all simply a long string of coincidences. There were no wheels-within-wheels, no plots-within-plots. It was a coincidence that the complex just happened to be as close to empty as possible, while everyone else who was experienced was busy seeing to a drought in the southernmost region of the Kingdom. It was a coincidence that the youngest and least experienced girl just happened to have been the only one on duty in the soul rooms that day. It was a coincidence she just happened to have been the shortest person living at the complex in several decades and the robe she was wearing was just the slightest bit too long for her. It was a coincidence that she just happened to have completed the last part of her Ritual only several days earlier; her sister had been the last to die.

In her own humble opinion, Amaryllis doubted it all 'just happened.' Quite frankly, whoever had the misconception that something like this could have all 'just happened' was an idiot who probably couldn't figure out how to extricate themselves from a room with walls made of papyrus. _Nothing _could be quite this coincidental.

She would know. Amaryllis was an authority in the workings of these 'coincidences.' As a full and experienced Sibyl, recognizing 'coincidences' like these was one of her many duties. She had paid a heavy price for the ability to do so. Like the young girl who sat across from her, watching her apprehensively over the black stone desk, she too had lost a sister. A lovely younger sister with none of the foibles they were reported to have. A twin brother had been the first lost, at a tragically young age. Her completion of the last Ritual had resulted in the loss of her mother.

She traced the Triangle on her palm, lost in thought.

_Brother, Sister, Mother._

In tracing the lines, she saw them all over again. Each line lit up as her finger passed it.

'All my Anchors…' She traced the last outer line of the Triangle and paused. Then, with a soft sigh, she traced the invisible line down the middle of the Triangle. The four-sided Triangle flared brightly for a moment before the light died down again, the last line once more fading away. 

_Self._

Looking up at the girl across from her, Amaryllis opened her mouth to speak. "How…"

Immediately, the girl poured out numerous (groundless) apologies. She shouldn't have been there at the time (she was assigned; no one was going to blame her for that). She should have known to catch it somehow (the importance of this particular Working had not yet been revealed to her even though its completion was nearing, which was Amaryllis' fault. Also, none of her magic had been unlocked; how was she to have caught it? She was too far away to have physically saved it). She should have managed to hem her robe before this could have happened (no one was faulting her for that; it was the fault of one of the seamstresses). All apologies were unwarranted and easily explained away, the product of seething guilt and true regret. A less open teacher than Amaryllis would have immediately seized on one of these excuses, just to have someone to blame for this calamity. But, even if only because this was a plot of Fate, the fault was not laid on the poor hapless girl who had only been used as a tool to further the unknown ends of that higher power.

And yet…who knew what other self-absorbed fool would seize on one of these reasons to hound her as the devastation of centuries of planning? There were several examples of these even among the Sibyls, who were known for their open-mindedness. The only thing to do would be to send her away. But…even if it was for the girl's own good, where else but among the Sibyls could anyone make use of her unique skills?

Holding up a hand to stem the flow of apologies, she scrutinized the girl. She was relatively young, only about twenty-two, a stereotypically dark haired and tan skinned Egyptian with uncommonly blue eyes…

"Let me see your Triangle." She ordered. The girl held out her hand, palm downwards. Gently turning the hand over, she traced the triangle on the girl's palm, one line at a time. In the wake of her finger, each line began to glow softly, the way her own Triangle had just moments ago. Each line summoned memories and images of the Anchors…

_Mentor, Lover, Sister._

'Interesting. There aren't that many with more than one Anchor grounded outside the family…' She traced the middle line and stopped. Her eyes had deceived her for a moment; she had been almost certain there was another weaker line crossing the central Self-line that had lit up as well. She watched the glow from the Triangle die down. On a whim, she followed a line perpendicular to the faded Self-line and traced another Triangle there. Lines lit up dimly as her fingers passed; no images accompanied these lines. 'Another Triangle? But, that's impossible! How could anyone have two Triangles?' 

In the first Triangle, there were three different Anchors, two outside her family. Tracing the Triangle brought in images of the Anchors; she had seen the girl's entire family in association with the memories of her sister. But, if there was a second, the people in it were completely different and the Anchors weren't yet defined, as if… As if she was to live two lives.

One Sibyl, one Triangle. Never, in the entire history of the Sibyls, had anyone been gifted with more than one Triangle because no one had ever lived more than one life. Perhaps…

"Go back to your room. I'll see you again tomorrow." This definitely required thought.

* * *

The Sibyls never came to birthing day celebrations. For that matter, Sibyls never attended weddings or anniversaries either. Their sphere seemed to be in sickness, and in death and dying, somber as that sounded. They simply weren't _suited_ to what were considered happy events. This was not to say that they were always somber or sad – there was just some indefinable quality about them that always _hinted_ at sadness, at seriousness. Perhaps this was due to the peculiar history surrounding them.

Sibyls had been a force within the Kingdom since as far back as its founding and establishment. In fact, it had been the Sibyls who suggested the selection of the first ruling family by the formal magical Duels and Tournaments that characterized the Kingdom. They had likely been around even before the founding of the Kingdom, and would most likely continue even after the Kingdom was gone. There had always been Sibyls, all of them working towards some obscure incomprehensible goal, though they didn't pry or interfere in day-to-day life within the Kingdom. Or, at least, not very often.

The Sibyls themselves didn't seem remarkable at all. They came from all the races within the Kingdom; they were of every skin tone and color. Slaves could be elevated to Sibyl status and members of the nobility were also called. In short, Sibyls came from every race, culture, or social standing. Which was both practical and convenient. Due to the peculiar nature of their work, the Sibyls came in contact with all the different peoples of the Kingdom. Yet all the Sibyls had one obvious thing in common. They were all female.

A new Sibyl was selected covertly. No one knew exactly how or why a Sibyl was chosen. Some process of the Sibyl could differentiate between two people who were completely alike in almost every way. Often, new Sibyls were orphans, or those who had gone through misfortune, losing loved ones and family members. Some other Sibyls were those who had killed relatives or friends. There never seemed to be any sort of connection between the deaths of those close to them and the selection of the Sibyl themselves. After all, people died from time to time. In the Kingdom, living to see fifty years was considered ancient. It was normal and necessary; how could deaths determine the designation of a person as a Sibyl?

In any case, Sibyls were possessed of strange powers. They appeared able to control the weather; they could heal sicknesses. All sorts of things that were considered impossible by ordinary folk were simply shrugged off as commonplace by the Sibyls. With such enormous power at their disposal, it was strange that the Sibyls had never once attempted to seize political power in order to rule. They simply worked, serving the Kingdom and its people. Their power, their magic was used to aid the Kingdom in practical ways, never demanding payment, working towards that strange otherworldly purpose.

In the more rural parts of the Kingdom, they aided the farmers during the droughts by calling down rain, the villages during the plagues by healing them. They were advisors to even the nobles, but only when asked – and sometimes not even then; their opinions were very much sought after. They were _always_ working and helping, somewhere, though they did not just come whenever they were called. They also always seemed to know when a place might need them, whether or not that place had attempted to contact them. However, it was only when the time seemed appropriate to the Sibyls themselves that they would come.

The Sibyls "lived" – if they could be said to do that, when they were not working – on top of what was known as the Shrouded Mountain, a tall granite face always surrounded by multicolored, lightning-charged clouds. Smoke and flashes of light could sometimes be seen; otherwise, the Mountain remained always the same. Long ago, some wit had once commented, "They know everything; they just can't be bothered to do anything about what they know," and this had become common knowledge, though how they could know anything while living in, to most extents and purposes, complete isolation at the top of the tallest known mountain in the entire Kingdom (and perhaps the entire world) was not known.

In most of those situations during which a Sibyl might be in attendance, the people were usually too worried, or grateful, or frightened to enquire deeply into their secrets. It was only afterwards, during times of leisure, that the public even thought to wonder about this underlying power in the Kingdom.

Outside of their obvious work throughout the Kingdom, the Sibyls kept to themselves. The Shrouded Mountain where they lived had its own peculiar magic, for not a single person (outside of the Sibyls) had ever made it to the top where the Sibyls lived. The top of the Mountain didn't retreat into the distance or anything obvious. Searchers would simply continue climbing and climbing for days on end, seemingly progressing. If their food ran out, food would, in some manner, be provided for them. (No one had ever died on the Mountain.) The magic of the mountain seemed to multiply the distance going up. No matter how long they had been climbing, however, from the moment they turned around to climb down, no matter how high or low they seemed to be, no matter how slowly or quickly they went down, it always took exactly three days to reach the level ground. Eventually, people stopped trying to reach them. It was, however, a famous joke. Whenever an outsider unfamiliar with the Sibyls visited, the locals would direct them to the Mountain. 'No one has ever managed to climb to the top to see it,' they would say, 'I bet you couldn't do it.' Inevitably, the visitor would bristle and determine to 'show these locals'. Every attempt ended in the same way. The visitor would brashly announce his or her goal of climbing to the top of the mountain, climb upwards for some time, concede defeat, and then climb down the mountain in exactly three days.

Therefore, no one had ever seen a Sibyl face-to-face. When they traveled, they wrapped themselves in hooded cloaks of midnight blue, black, or twilit purple (the significance of these colors, if there was one, was unknown; all the Sibyls seemed the same to most people). Despite their constant presence throughout the Kingdom, they still tended to keep to themselves. They always returned to their Shrouded Mountain once their work was complete.

And the Sibyls never attended birthing day ceremonies.

That was why it came as a complete surprise when, at the first birthing day celebration of the Crown Prince, three Sibyls, one dressed in each of the trademark colors, appeared at the gate of the castle, followed by another much smaller figure, clothed completely in white. This figure was unusually small and, for its size, for it couldn't have been anything other than a child, unnaturally quiet.

* * *

"You can't mean that…"

"I can assure you that we are perfectly serious. Your Majesty." The Sibyl in black answered, voice emotionless. The title was tacked on as an afterthought.

The queen simply looked shocked, though not at the lack of courtesy. (Their manners in all other respects were completely flawless; seclusion seemed not to have affected their decorum at all. Except for the air of arrogance and superiority that the Sibyl in black seemed to exude.) "I still don't understand how this could be. Men are never…"

"Special circumstances preclude this." Pushing back her purple hood, the Sibyl opposite her smiled. She was the most self-effacing, it seemed. Polite without being servile, the queen felt that she could get to know and like her rather well, if circumstances hadn't ordered otherwise. Maybe she was lower in whatever hierarchy the Sibyl possessed?

"Special…?"

"We were as shocked as you when we found out." She continued.

Still rather dazed at being the first monarch to actually be sought out by a Sibyl, not to mention the... most peculiar news, the queen barely caught the dark glance that the Sibyl in black shot at the one in purple. When the other responded with a look of absolute serenity, she was surprised. Especially when the black one (it seemed rather tactless to differentiate the Sibyl by the color of their garments, but what else did she have to separate them from each other?) subsided and did not speak again for the remainder of the conversation.

"As I was saying," the one in purple continued, "Since this is a 'special circumstance,' we were wondering if you could do us a favor." Nodding, the queen gestured for her to go on. "We'd like to leave someone here, with you, for observational purposes."

"A Sibyl? Here?"

"She's perfectly trustworthy, of course." The one clothed in blue answered quickly, for some reason choosing to ignore the queen's outburst. "Her purpose will be to advise and observe; she will not interfere without reason." The Sibyl lowered her hood almost shyly as she glanced towards the cradle in the corner. "Perhaps I could…?"

"What? Oh…" Barely managing to get her mind around the surprises of the day, she had completely forgotten the reason for these developments. "I don't…"  
"I'll be quite careful." The Sibyl reassured her, rightly interpreting the reluctance. "I'd just like to meet him."

A servant was called over and the Crown Prince deposited in the Sibyl's arms, though not without reluctance, at least, not on the servant's part. The child, on the other hand, was quite willing to be held by the strange girl, cooing delightedly. She ruffled his hair, which stood up and stuck out in all directions, smiling affectionately.

Finally putting maternal worries to rest, at least, for now, the queen turned back to the subject at hand. "Will there truly be need for an observer?"

"Yes. Are you worried about who the observer is or about what she will do?"

"Both." The queen answered frankly, too worn from surprises to be polite. "I'm simply worried about entrusting my own child, and, by extension, the entire kingdom when he comes of age…unless he's to be taken away?"

The three Sibyls exchanged glances. The one in purple shook her head. "No. Even after… he will remain here, to rule the kingdom." The queen sighed with relief after that and didn't hear her quieter remark. "He will be needed…along with all the help we can give him."

"We understand your fears completely, your Majesty." Starting with surprise, the queen didn't even notice that this was the first time they had addressed her with the title of respect, and seemed to mean it as such. This time, it was the one in blue who had spoken up. Shifting the weight of the child in her arms, she continued. "You know who the observer is. I believe you're familiar with her family. As to what she will do…you'll have to trust us there, as we hope we can trust you to keep this quiet." Her smile took any sting out of the words and she turned back to the child, who was currently grasping the material of her cloak and looking it over with interest.

"Who will be the observer?" The queen finally asked. "Would she be a guardian for the child as well as reporting back to you?"

"Yes. She will be both observer and guardian." She motioned towards the figure wearing white, who stood and walked up to the queen and the purple-clothed Sibyl, head bowed respectfully. "And her name? Isis Ishtar."

"But she's just a child! Surely she's not more than five."

"She's six, and she'll grow along with the Crown Prince." Settling the baby into her lap again, she smiled. "He'll have an elder sister."

"How can she be a Sibyl? She's not that much older than my son!"

"Did we say the observer was to be a Sibyl?" Turning her wide-mouthed attention from the Sibyl holding her child to the one who had spoken, the queen simply shook her head disbelievingly.

"No…I…I don't suppose you did."

"Strange, isn't it, that the one person you know among the Sibyls is the one you don't trust, because she isn't one? When you know nothing about either who we are or what we can do. Unfortunately, she's the only one of us fit for the job."

"A…child?"

"She'll be just that much closer to the Prince. As to her competence, she's gone through more in her few short years than most people go through in their entire lives." 'After all, she's gone through two; the scars of those first years are still on her, however short they were. Still, what will come in the next years will be the ones that count the most. I'm ashamed to be putting this child through so much, but it's for her own good. Who knew the essence would take this long to find a vessel? I suppose it's all for the good; she would have been too old in her previous life to truly bond with the Prince enough for him to really trust her and take her advice.' Yet, she still couldn't repress a slight feeling of guilt. She had been the one to "release" the essence of the girl, the second Sibyl euphemism for murder, though they had never truly needed one before. The Rituals were enough blood on their hands; why had these circumstances added even more? Glancing over at the other Sibyl, who was quietly playing with the child, she sighed imperceptibly. 'And my accomplice…'

"Are we agreed, your Majesty?" The other's words sliced through her thoughts with all the effectiveness of a sword through… better to stop that thought there. 'Praise be to that girl! We have to get this concluded…'

"I don't really have much choice, do I?"

"If it would make you feel better to think that, Your Majesty." The one in purple answered her.

"Oh, and don't be surprised by reports that the Sibyls have descended from on high. I'd still encourage you to keep them from climbing the Shrouded Mountain, however. Revealing as much as we have is a serious blow to our image. But 'truth is stranger than fiction,' if you'll forgive me the use of a cliché. So, be prepared for several demonstrations of that in the near future."

After gently setting the child back into the cradle, the blue-cloaked Sibyl joined the other two, who had stood up. Isis remained hooded and silent, staring down at the ground.

"We can entrust you with Isis, can we not?" Smiling tenderly at the mentioned child, she tilted her head, waiting for an answer. "She's a very dear child."

"O-Of course." The queen replied, preparing to get up.

"No need to see us out, your Majesty." The Sibyl laughed musically. "We shall see you again." Then, without cover of either smoke or light, all three disappeared.

* * *

"Isis! Wait for me!" The taller girl turned as the younger boy ran up to her, panting slightly. "Why didn't you tell me you were going? You promised you'd take me!"

"Silly brat." Isis answered, a smile taking the sting out of her words, much like her Sibyl up bringers. "If I had told you, it would have taken the fun out of gleaning the information for yourself. Which you did very well at. If you can always keep your ears open like this, you'll make an excellent ruler."

"You're supposed to be an older sister, but you act more like the High Priest sometimes…"

Wrinkling her nose comically: "Don't compare me to that old…"

"I was kidding, Isis!" He looked up at her earnestly, his crimson colored eyes still childishly innocent. "You know I didn't mean it…"

"You're still a little brat." She jokingly batted at his hair, causing him to dance out of the way.

"I'm eight, only five years younger than you!" He shouted indignantly, trying to tame his hair back into place.

"Well, since you're ever so old, I suppose you might as well come. We'll go together, Yami."

With a mischievous smirk, he cried joyfully. "Okay!" Then, acting as if he had forgotten. "So, where are we going again?"

"You little…"

* * *

Owari 

Endnotes: Well, that's that. Next chapter will be up soon as I am fine-tuning certain things. If you're confused, feel free to leave a review or e-mail.

And if the title doesn't make sense now, it will soon. I hope.

Review, please?


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: In which we explore Yami's relationship with the first of his Anchors, watch someone get beat up, and delve into a psychological discussion of bread. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: No. 

Author's notes: Eh…the bread thing is strange.  That's about it though. 

(Beta-ed by Lily-sama!)

(Title Suggested by Zoo-sama!)

Red and Blue

Chapter 2

~*~__

_"Allow me to present Crown Prince Yami." Enthusiastic cheers greeted the Pharaoh's announcement.  It wasn't everyday that their future (albeit young) ruler was presented to them._

_The short boy stood on the balcony, beside the Pharaoh, with the entire entourage of guards, Priests and family behind them, and nearly the entire population of the city before.  They stood together, the Pharaoh's arm around Yami's shoulder, presenting the perfect picture of father and son._

_It was sad that these were the only times Yami was ever truly close to the Pharaoh._

_The celebration was for purely formal purposes only.  Which was to be expected.  It was only during formal celebrations that Yami got to spend any real amount of time with the Pharaoh._

_His father._

_~*~_

Yami loved the smell of freshly baked bread.  The one aroma seemed to bring with it all the warmth and loving emotion that the word 'family' was supposed to convey, something that he had never truly experienced.  Isis wasn't really family; his mother had seen no harm in letting him know from the start. It hadn't affected his relationship with her any; she was still the closest thing to a sister that he had.  His mother had tried to make time for him, but even before her sickness, she had been much too busy; his father…

He barely knew him.

Wanting to gain approval, or even the slightest acknowledgement, at least, from the ruler of all Egypt, he had pursued his studies relentlessly.  Even at the age of eight, he was a better swordsman than many older than he (his best friend, who served with the Guards, assured him of this); his skills in reading and writing equaled that of many scribes.  Architecture and higher mathematics were things he had yet to pursue officially; preliminary tests from both his tutor and his sister revealed a keen mind for both.  Of religion he knew next to nothing; theology was reserved for the Priests.

Yet the Pharaoh seemed to take these skills for granted, or perhaps he didn't even know of them.  Even at mealtimes, he was always engaged in heated discussions with his advisors, or the Priests, ignoring everyone else at the table.

However much the Pharaoh ignored him, he was still central to Yami's life.  Gaining his approval, or his regard, or something, anything from him was one of the reasons Yami had never given up.  Even so young, he yearned for this.  He had seen the other children.  Their fathers played with them, talked with them, did things with them.  Some of them were strict, but they still acknowledged their children.  And, almost undoubtedly, they loved each other.

He loved the Pharaoh.  Did his father love him back?

"Isis?" He tugged a little at the other girl's skirt.  When she had finally relented and allowed him to come to the bakery with her, its delicious aroma had seemed to intensify, nearly overpowering the Prince.

"I was wondering when you'd speak up again.  What were you thinking about?" Smiling, she led him through the crowded marketplace, without waiting for an answer, leaving the guards from the palace to trail behind them.  They weren't really supposed to be there; in fact, it had been specifically requested that they not follow.  Paranoia was rampant, however; who knew what horrible fates would befall the Heir and his sister?  It was quite a comical sight: it wasn't everyday that you saw a thirteen-year-old girl dragging her younger brother behind her through a crowded marketplace…followed by several taller men holding various weapons, all of whom looked as if they wanted to be anywhere but there, and all of whom were trying to look inconspicuous, with varying degrees of success.

"Isis! Can I have one, Isis, please?" Yami asked excitedly, pointing to the freshly baked loaves of bread stacked neatly on the baker's stall, ignoring Isis' question.  Isis just laughed and handed the baker several coins before taking the loaves he handed her.  She handed a sweet-filled bun to Yami, who immediately set about destroying almost all evidence of its existence, and started walking back to the palace.

"So what were you thinking about?" Isis asked as Yami continued eating.  The path to the palace was lined with trees and carved stone benches.  As they moved closer, the palace itself started coming into sight.

With slight surprise, Yami looked at her.  "When?"

"Back there." She answered with a slight jerk of her head.  "You didn't think I forgot, did you?" His startled expression (and the near demise of his bread) was enough to tell her that he'd hoped she had.  Stuffing part of his bread back into his wide-open mouth, she added,  "It looked serious too.  Perhaps something about…"

"It was about the Pharaoh."

This time it was Isis who almost dropped the bread she had bought.  Looking at Yami concernedly, she gestured towards one of the benches.  "Do you want to sit down?" When he nodded, she turned and waved at the guards who were still trying to 'covertly' follow them.  "Thanks so much!  You may now return to the palace and inform those concerned that we have not been kidnapped, molested, drugged, pushed into any clandestine pits or hurled into cleverly engineered holes filled with lava.  We'll follow in a little bit."  Several of the soldiers looked at each other in a mixture of surprise and confusion; were they allowed to do that?  They turned from each other to stare at Isis, who simply smiled and pointed towards the palace, and, by extension, their homes and families.  After all, what could happen to them this close to the palace?  So they took their leave as Isis and Yami took their seats.

"You're angry?" Were her opening words.  Having expected more subtlety from his older sister, Yami was taken aback.  For this reason, it took a while for the words to actually sink in.  When they finally did, Yami shook his head vehemently, denying them.  "I thought not.  It was worth a shot though.  So what is it?"

It took a few moments, but he finally started.  It didn't help that every time a person walked anywhere near the shady pathway, Yami immediately faltered and the words stopped.  Eventually, however, he managed to piece together and voice his thoughts.

"…And we hardly ever see him!  He doesn't seem to know I exist at all, except when there's a public ceremony.  He's always busy with crops, or worries about droughts, or the Games!" Isis made a strangled sound in her throat at that; Yami looked at her strangely before continuing.  "I just wish he would notice me once in a while.  Not my-son-who-I-only-see-during-ceremonies, not the-heir-to-the-throne.  I want him to see me as Yami!"

At the end of this impassioned recital, Isis simply sat stunned for a moment.  Yami hadn't raised his voice once while speaking; there was nothing to suggest that this was anything more than a simple, friendly conversation.  His emotion was hidden as he had been taught to hide it, but she could see something smoldering in his eyes, struggling to get out.  Anger, perhaps…or longing.

"So you love him but you don't understand why he doesn't seem to feel the same for you." 'How can they ask him to do it?  No one else had or will have the requirements that he has to fulfill.  Damn them all!  I will not allow them to do this to him!' 

Still looking somewhat dazed, Yami nodded, the wild look in his eyes starting to fade.  He sensed that something had been made clear to Isis that he wouldn't understand.  They sat there quietly for a few minutes more, the silence stretching out before them, each lost in their own thoughts.  They were so far removed that they didn't notice the group of strangers gathering around them.  All of them were holding makeshift weapons and wearing menacing grins.

Isis was the one who recovered first.  She glanced from one derisive face to another, hoping against hope that they weren't there for what she thought they were.  Then, Yami looked up as well, his mouth parted into a silent 'o' of surprise.  Heartily wishing that she hadn't sent the Guard in after all, she stood up, motioning at Yami to stay put.

A blond man standing in front of the group (apparently the leader) spoke up first.  "Well, well, well.  What have we here?"

~*~

"I still don't think this is a good idea, Jou."

"Oh, please, Anzu.  What could happen?"

"You could get caught. Obviously."

The sunny courtyard was the perfect place to practice swordplay.  It was well lit and open with plenty of space.  The springy moss growing on the cobblestones was also soft enough to break a fall.  (Not that Jou thought he would be doing any falling.)  Unfortunately, and predictably, it was also forbidden.  "That's true…"

"What?  You're not going to give up already, are you?" Honda glared at him.  "Do you realize how much time I spent gathering these up?  It's not exactly easy to steal my father's practice weaponry."

Jou looked from the pile of glittering swords to the disapproving face of his older friend.  And back again.  "It's the only time the guards are away without needing every weapon they have…"

The girl simply turned away disappointedly.  "I still can't believe you're going through with it…" She muttered as she walked away.

Taking advantage of Jou's distraction, Honda hit him over the head and shoved one of the larger swords into his hands.  "Well? Hurry up!"

"Well, excuse me, O Great Son of the Weaponsmaster.  I was simply delaying your inevitable defeat…"

"Less talk and more work.  You still need a lot more work on parrying, and it's not like we have a lot of time on our hands."

Dropping the broadsword Honda had chosen for him and selecting one of the lighter ones instead, he faced Honda in the ready stance.  He brought his sword up just in time to prevent his friend's from crashing down on his head.

"Good!"

"I haven't even started." Jou yelled back.

"No. But you are finished." Another voice answered.

Jou managed to throw Honda's sword off as the other's grip had slackened.  The clatter of the metal on the stones was unnaturally loud.  "Oh shit."

"That would be a rude thing to do, especially out in the open here in the courtyard.  You have no manners at all. Haven't I taught you better?" The voice replied amusedly.

"Father, I…" Just then, something clicked.  His father wasn't supposed to be home until Yami was.  He would be just the person to help bail them out of this situation.  "Is Yami…?"

Automatically, his father corrected him.  "Prince Yami."

"Isn't he home then?" Honda asked, having, like Jou, seen the way out of this situation.

"He is.  In a manner of speaking."

Shocked, the two gaped at the man speaking, who had turned to put away his armor.  "You mean you left him alone outside the palace walls?" They cried simultaneously.

"He's with Lady Isis."

"You left him alone outside the palace walls," was all Honda said, still doing a creditable imitation of one of the fish they often found in the river.  He turned to look for Jou to back him up and was surprised to see him gone.  "Jou!"

"I'm not leaving him alone outside!" His voice floated back.

"Then wait for me, you idiot!"

~*~

"What do you want?" Isis glared icily at the men surrounding them.

"Whatever you have offer us." One of them leered at her.  "And judging by your appearance, it seems like that will be plenty."

Casting a look at the palace, trying to gauge the distance and wondering whether Yami would have enough time to run there, was a mistake.

"It seems we've gotten lucky, men!" The leader had seen her calculating glance towards the palace.  "I do believe we've gotten our hands on the Crown Prince himself.  I wonder how much the Pharaoh will pay us to have his precious little boy back safe again."

Isis raged inwardly.  They had no idea what they were interfering with.  'I hope I don't have to call them.  They warned me about using it too early.  Not that they wouldn't be useful right about now.'

She felt Yami stir at her side.  Whirling, she flung out an arm to keep him from standing up and drawing attention…but it was too late.  "He will give you nothing." She heard him say.

"What did you say?" The man glared at the shorter boy.  

"The Pharaoh will give you nothing."  Carefully blank crimson eyes stared at nothing with complete apathy.  "The kingdom cannot be risked solely for the sake of one person."

The man was obviously taken aback by this demonstration of selflessness.  Perhaps he was just as unnerved by Yami's eyes staring directly through him, as if he didn't exist.  "You little brat." He muttered with false bravado, raising his hand to strike the boy.

"Don't you dare touch him," was the only warning before a fist shot out, seemingly from nowhere.

~*~

"You really didn't have to do that, Jou." Yami admonished as he and Honda helped support his bruised savior up the path to the palace.  Isis had run on ahead to get help.  Jou simply smiled up at him cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to his rapidly blackening eye, swollen lip and various other injuries.  "I'm not saying I don't appreciate it…"

"Well, I wasn't going to let him hit you.  Might as well be me that he hits instead, no?" 

"Of course, considering that there were only about ten more of them to your one." Honda replied sarcastically.  "You could have waited for me before you charged in like that"

"Not my fault you're too slow.  Besides, the other guys didn't do anything."

"Only because they thought no one would be stupid enough to waltz into the middle of a large group of armed thugs with only his fists.  Lucky for you, they didn't know you are that stupid."

"That was really nice of you though, Jou." Yami said quietly.

"It's no problem.  And like I said, don't worry about me!"  Jou tried to wink, but the bruise around his eye ruined the effect somewhat.

"Yeah, that's my job.  He really needs it."

"Thanks for jumping in right after me, Honda.  How come I still got more bruises than you?  It can't be your fighting skills."

"Because you refuse to listen to me when I tell you to concentrate more on defense."  Honda shot back, ignoring Jou's sarcastic comments.

"Best defense is a good offense."

Laughing, Yami waved at the priests and doctor making their way down the path.  "You two are impossible."

~*~Owari~*~

Endnotes: Strange, wasn't it?  I can't write action scenes.  Don't kill me.

Review, please?


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: In which we finally meet the Pharaoh, take part in a reconciliation, and first take note of the tombs.  Oh yes, and meet our beloved brown-haired, blue-eyed Priest.

Disclaimer: I wish. 

Author's notes: Sorry I haven't updated anytime soon.  Lily-sama tells me the first sentence is bad. Any suggestions?

(Beta-ed by Lily-sama!)

(Title Suggested by Zoo-sama!)

Red and Blue

Chapter 3

~*~

The Pharaoh was going away again.  In itself, this was nothing new.  With problems constantly coming up all over the kingdom, it was expected that the Pharaoh would have to travel in order to observe or settle these problems.  This time, however, something was different.

There was a major sandstorm going on near the village that was his destination, the scouts had reported back.  Not wishing to endanger their monarch, the villagers had sent word that he should wait until it was over before setting out.  Unfortunately, this left the days that had been allotted for the journey empty, all work having been distributed to underlings in anticipation of the now cancelled trip.

Which was why the Pharaoh was currently sitting in the private room allotted for him just off from the Throne Room.  The only place he could go where he wouldn't be interrupted.

He sighed when he heard a knock at the door.  Scratch that.  The only place he could go where there was even the slightest chance that he wouldn't be interrupted.

"Come in." He stood up, expecting the High Priest or one of the senior clerks.  When he saw the Sibyl girl walk in, he dropped all masks and stared. "What are you doing here?" He panicked; he had completely forgotten her name, which wasn't surprising.  Seeing someone sporadically and never speaking to them wasn't an ideal circumstance for remembering names.  Except in the case of his son.

The girl looked at him through eyes of sapphire blue.  For some reason they reminded him of his son's crimson ones.  Perhaps because red and blue together made purple, the color of royalty, the color that permeated his entire life.  And had destroyed it. "So, you're…"

"Isis." She answered simply.

"Very well then.  Why are you here, Isis?"

"It's about your son." Somehow, just by walking forwards, the thirteen year old could look menacing. "Perhaps you haven't heard about what happened last week?"

"I heard there was a disturbance…"

Isis snorted, losing her previous menacing expression. "A disturbance. Well, I suppose in the opinion of the High Priest, it was nothing more than that." Her voice chilled suddenly. "And I suppose that you, like your advisors, who are, excuse my audacity, completely incompetent, consider an attempt to kidnap the Crown Prince merely a disturbance."

"What? Who dared…"

"Here, majesty, is the only time when such an attempt will be uncomplicated. The kidnappers were after money. Simple street thugs. Next time, that won't be the case."

The Pharaoh glanced at her sharply. She was, after all, one of the Sibyls, even at thirteen. "Are you sure of this?" If she knew, then perhaps they could prevent it…

But she didn't answer the question. She only looked at him with a strange expression, a mixture of affected confusion and concern. Sighing, the Pharaoh walked away to look out the window at the riverside.  It figured that the Sibyls wouldn't be allowed to say anything about the future to other people.

"Do you know what he said?"

"Pardon?"

"It was thanks to him that the gang held back long enough for his friends to help us. So, do you know what he said when the gang leader threatened him?"

Turning back, the Pharaoh focused a level-eyed gaze on the shorter girl. "No; and I would greatly appreciate your relation of the tale to me." This was as close as the Pharaoh would ever come to begging.

Isis closed her eyes, remembering. "'He will give you nothing. The Pharaoh will give you nothing. The kingdom cannot be risked solely for the sake of one person.'" Looking at the stunned Pharaoh again, she simply smiled. "Forgive me for disturbing you, your

Majesty. I'll leave you now." With one hand already on the door, she was ready to leave completely when the Pharaoh spoke.

"He was wrong, you know."

Surprised, she whirled around. 

"He was wrong." Grinning rakishly at her, the first genuine smile that had been on his face in a long time, he repeated himself. "I would have given up anything to see him safe."

Appeased at last, Isis pushed open the door. "I'm glad to see that I was wrong about you as well."

~*~

Yami waited impatient for the meeting to end.  The Pharaoh had promised to talk to him about something.  Shaking with a mixture of happiness and anxiety, Yami glared at the door.  When were they going to finish?

"Who are you waiting for?" He heard a soft voice behind him ask.  Confused, he glanced behind him. "Oh." Sounding surprised, the brown-haired boy hastily sketched a bow, murmuring, "Forgive me, your Majesty."

Yami sighed.  He hated it when the courtiers did that. This boy, though he didn't look like just a courtier, appeared to be just as bad. "Please just get up," he said, surprised when the boy quickly obeyed, eyes still respectfully downcast.  The other boy looked to be only a little older though he was much taller, with brown hair.  His skin was tanned; he obviously spent plenty time outside, though probably less than Jou and Honda did, as both of them had skin that was quickly burned brown by the sun.  Yami spent more time indoors than either of them; his skin was only lightly tanned, testimony to his few outdoor excursions.  Isis was very deeply tanned, typical of most Egyptians, though she didn't spend any extra time outdoors that he could tell.  Curious, Yami asked, "What's your name?"

"Seto.  I'm the son of the High Priest." Yami watched as Seto cautiously raised his head, worried that it would be considered rude.  His eyes were a very bright very deep blue, Yami mused.  'He's much too polite for his own good.  Though that can probably attributed to his father.  Any child that polite was probably raised by extremely strict parents or simply putting up a façade.' Spending time with Jou and Honda (the former being the one who had given him that philosophy), neither of who felt inclined to keep up with formal manners in his presence, had probably given him a predilection for easy, informal courtesy.

"Yami." He stated unnecessarily, holding out a hand. "Nice to meet you." Seto took his hand slowly, seeming unsure that laying hands on the sacred person of the Crown Prince was allowed.  "And to answer your previous question, I'm waiting for the damned meeting to be over so I can talk to my father." Apparently, Yami talking like this had reassured Seto and he answered candidly.

"Oh, it'll probably be another fifteen minutes." He glanced at the door in annoyance. "I'm the messenger, so I have to keep them informed about whatever.  The last I heard was that they're trying to get that business with the illegal docking resolved or whatever." He hesitated then, as if he were mentally going over the information in his head to see whether or not it was appropriate for a Prince.  It apparently (barely) passed muster because the other boy leaned down slightly and whispered. "The Pharaoh has been cutting a lot of meetings short lately.  Well, not really lately.  For a while, anyway, and that's been annoying a lot of the councilors no end.  Since they really like talking, the meetings used to be so much longer.  It's good that he's been doing so; it forces them to choose their words more carefully when their time limit is running out.  So, now they're phrasing in ten words what they used to say in twenty or more." Chuckling as if at a private joke, he continued, "They have no real right to complain anyway.  The same amount gets done, except in half the time." Straightening again, he looked wistfully at Yami. "It's nice that he spends the extra time with you."

Startled, Yami looked up at Seto.  "So all the time he's been spending with me recently…it's because he cuts these meetings short?" He felt guilty about that. "I didn't know I was interrupting anything important…"

You're not." Seto said quickly. "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression.  A lot of those meetings weren't really that important anyway; petty disputes really.  The Pharaoh didn't even have to be at most of them, but the people insisted on his presence for every single trivial matter." He sighed. "People can be really silly about things, can't they?  My father asked him to delegate these matters to the lesser judges, but the Pharaoh cares about what the people think about him.  Anyway, recently he's been leaving more matters to the clerks and the Priests.  It's made my father's job a bit bigger, but he didn't really have that much to do before anyway.  The jobs are still distributed very fairly; the Pharaoh really is a good ruler.  We're glad that he doesn't take everything up on his own shoulders anymore.  Frees him up for the more important things." Seto winked at him.

'How does he know things that I don't?' Yami thought wonderingly. 'It's so nice of him to explain them to me.  I know the older boys don't like talking to younger ones very much; I mean, sure I'm the Crown Prince, but I'm really just a little kid.' Seto was rapidly taking a place along with Jou and Honda as older friends he actually liked.  Jou more than Honda though.  Honda was the one who actually remembered Who He Was and treating him accordingly much more than Jou did.  With Jou, he could play games without worrying that he would "let" him win.  Honda did that far too often for his liking.

Just then, the door opened and out stepped the High Priest. "Seto, I need you to…Highness!" Bowing just as his son had, he turned back to the other. "I sincerely hope that he hasn't been bothering…" Seto looked abashed.

"No. No, he hasn't," said Yami hurriedly.  After all, he didn't want Seto getting in trouble when he had been so kind to him. "I really enjoyed talking with him." He smiled disarmingly up at the High Priest, directing his next question at Seto. "Maybe we can talk again some time?"

"O-Of course." Both answered as one. 

"Is the meeting over then, Father?" Seto asked courteously.

Handing him a piece of paper, the High Priest nodded. "Yes, and not one of the councilors went off on wild tangents again.  If we keep this up, we're going to run out of things to do before the harvest season." He joked. "Please take this to the Harbormaster; he'll know what to do with it." When Seto had run off, the High Priest looked down at Yami again.  With a kind smile for the boy, he gestured inside the Council room.  "He'll be out very soon; he's just wrapping up some last minute details.  By your leave, then," and he hurried off towards the Temple.

'I wonder why all the courtiers say "by your leave" and "your Majesty" more often than anything else.  Coupled with their convoluted language, it's really no wonder the meetings used to take so long.  In fact, I'd have been more surprised if they hadn't.' He didn't understand all of this from just one conversation; his brain had been putting the information together for a long time: the way the courtiers always seemed to put things in such flowery language in front of him, the annoyed looks on the High Priest's face (small wonder he had always acted slightly pompous and self-righteous when, in reality, he was really very kind; he'd had to adopt it for survival!), and the days it had taken for even the simplest action (giving food to villages suffering from drought, for example) to be carried out.

The door opened and Yami pressed himself against a wall to avoid the notice of the courtiers who were filing out.  Vowing to get rid of them except in the decorative function, or at least phasing out most of their duties as his father had done when he was Pharaoh, he glared at the ostensibly endless line.  He couldn't go in until they had all gone.  Meanwhile, he tried to figure out exactly how he would carry out his plan. 'Maybe I could figure out a way to send most of them to foreign posts somewhere.  That wouldn't be fair to their families though, so, what if I formed a temporary executive board?  They could vote on members.' He glowered at the slowly moving courtiers. 'Yes, that would probably work.  There are so many of them!  That has to contribute to the problem somehow.  Of course, voting them to office has its own problems, what with corruption, buying votes from others and all that.  Ah well, that's the last of them.' Mentally laughing at the absurdity of the situation (a ten-year-old thinking about political science? Hah!), Yami darted in among the last remaining courtiers to see his father.

~*~

"Are you insane?  He'll never agree to it!"

Sighing, Jou shook his head. "No, Honda.  You think he won't agree with my idea for two reasons.  One, because it's my idea, not yours, and you're jealous.  Secondly, you're constantly superimposing your views of what the ideal Crown Prince should or should not do on Yami!  How do you know how he thinks?" He finished triumphantly.

"I am not!  And I'm not 'superimposing' my views or whatever you think.  I just know that he won't like the idea!"

"See?  There you go again.  'You know.'"

Interposing from the safety of the sidelines, Anzu called out, "I don't think you guys should fight about that now…"

Both of the boys turned toward her and snarled. "Why the hell not?"

Anzu sighed then, much as Jou had before, throwing her hands up in exaggerated despair, putting the small square of cloth and the needle in those hands in danger of being flung right into one of the boys' eyes. "At least keep it down a little?" Bending her head back over her sewing, she couldn't repress a small smile.  Oh well.  It would be their own fault for not listening to her.

Turning back towards each other, they continued arguing, though more calmly and quietly.  Wouldn't do to attract extra attention, after all.

"I don't see what's wrong with my idea.  And don't say, 'You mean besides the fact that it's your idea?' I'm not completely stupid and it's a good idea."

"It's a good idea if you want to get him killed." Honda muttered, obviously put out that Jou had taken the words right out of his mouth.

"And what's wrong with going to the Tombs?  We'll be there, won't we?  We'll make sure nothing happens to him and I know he'd love the idea."

"I doubt we can deal with whatever's been going on there recently."

"I can't believe you're buying all that.  How do you know those crazy courtiers didn't just make it up?  You know how easily they're scared."

Glaring daggers at Jou, Honda grit his teeth and ground out, "Then, by your reasoning, my father is easily scared.  And, by your reasoning, fully half the members of the Royal Guard, who are, might I add, trained very extensively in at least a dozen different fighting techniques each, are also easily scared.  That being said, forgive me if being in the company of an idiot and the Crown Prince, a prime target for kidnapping, out by the Tombs miles away from safety makes me scared."

"There you go again.  Yami is not just a liability.  You've seen him; he can put you in the ground more times than I can, and that's saying something." Muffled laughter interrupted him here.  Looking pointedly at Honda and Anzu (which, for some reason, caused her to drop her stitching with a curse and hide her face), Jou waited for the amusement to peter out.  Which it did, though much too slowly.  "You don't think Yami can do it, do you?"

"Think I can do what?" he heard a cheerful voice behind him, coming, strangely, from about shoulder height. 'It couldn't be.  The meeting wasn't supposed to end for another hour at least.'

"Yami!  What are you doing here?"

"Being talked about, apparently." The Crown Prince returned cheerfully. "What was it about?"

Taking pity on him, Anzu interjected with, "Why aren't you still at the meeting?"

"Oh, it ended almost half an hour ago.  I met someone new there too!  And, of course, I got to talk with…Father." 

It hurt Jou that Yami still found that word unfamiliar and hard to get out.  Still, he was relieved that he wouldn't be called on to explain his previous words.

"…He wanted to ask for my opinion on a tightened guard around the Tombs.  I told him that it wouldn't do to be sure without actually inspecting the situation personally, after all the recent thefts.  And guess what?"

Jou and Honda exchanged glances.  How could it be?  They were just talking about the Tombs themselves! "What?" Both answered at once.

"He wants me, and a small detachment of Guards, to go with him!  And, well, I wanted to ask you. Would you go with me?"

A chance to see the Tombs legitimately! "Of course!" They replied enthusiastically.  Unfortunately, enthusiasm to them usually involved some slight bodily injury to the person who was the cause of this.

Yami winced a little as he left to inform his father and the High Priest.  His hair was completely disheveled and he had a small bruise on his arm from when Jou had gripped it too hard.

As Anzu watched him leave, she couldn't suppress the feeling that this had happened too easily. "I hope he doesn't get in trouble there. Considering the way you two were talking before, I'd say he should be worried."

"Oh, please, Anzu.  You're just angry that he didn't ask you!"

"Could I have gone even if he had?" Smiling somewhat pensively, she picked up the cloth she had been sewing on before and walked away.

"She's right, you know." Honda whispered to Jou. "Yami was trying to spare her feelings when he didn't ask her.  I'm still glad we're going though!"

"So, you're not afraid of the 'ghost'?" Jou asked, emphasizing the last word to give the impression of mockery. "Even some of the most famous tomb robbers are afraid of it.  We're talking about people who choose to spend their time in deep dark pyramids filled with the embalmed bodies of dead Pharaohs, which isn't even mentioning the other things in there."

"I'm more frightened of the tomb robbers.  At least we know they exist.  And, since they do, what harm their weapons can do to us."

~*~Owari~*~

Endnotes: Wow…I finally got around to obvious foreshadowing. Good for me!

Review, please?


	4. Chapter 4

After over a year of nothing, I'm back! Sorry for the wait, especially to any of those readers still with me…

Title-change too, at least tentatively…

Summary: We see just a bit more of the Sibyls, I do some actual foreshadowing, and there is ANGST! Enjoy…

Disclaimer: No. Still don't own it, will never own it…sigh.

Author's notes: WAH! THE FORMATTING! IT IS GONE! See if I ever come back after a year again...all my pretty stars and squiggles...gone...all gone...

Red and Blue

Chapter 4

* * *

The tombs were cold, and the desert even worse, at night. During the earlier hours directly after sunset, it wasn't as bad – the heat the sand had stored during the day radiated back, slightly modulating temperatures even as they began to drop. Past midnight, this source of heat had been completely exhausted. Without some other way of keeping warm, it was quite possible to fall asleep and never wake up, at night. 

It was always late at night that the tomb robbers worked.

And there was fire.

* * *

There had not been an official Tournament in quite some time, as there had not been true occasion for it. The last one had taken place about a year before the Crown Prince had been born and he had never seen the shadow creatures that took place in those Tournaments. Their powers and natures were whispered of reverently, but they were only whispers. The Pharaoh did not do anything either to stem the rumors that had spread since the last Tournament; verification was never given. So the rumors died, at least on the surface. 

Yami's father spoke to him about them now.

They were riding out of the city, towards the large pyramids in the distance. The two of them weren't alone; they were, of course, surrounded on all sides by the honor guard. Not counting the guards, there were several other extra people on the trip. The (honorary) Lady Isis Ishtar, the son of the Weaponsmaster, Honda Hiroto, and the son of the Captain of the Guard, Katsuya Jounouchi (known simply as 'Jou' by his closer friends), were along at the request of the Crown Prince. That is, the latter two were his friends and had been invited; the former, the Lady Isis, now sitting demurely on her mount, had somewhat unexpectedly put her foot down about allowing the Crown Prince out of her sight, and rather than risk incurring her wrath, the entire entourage had deemed it wiser to simply allow her to come along. The Pharaoh had obliged willingly, displaying an awe of her that seemed rather out of keeping with the differences in their rank. After all, he was the _Pharaoh_; she was only a questionably titled girl, at the most about four or five years older than his own son.

But she was a Sibyl and everyone knew (in fact, many in that escort had even personally witnessed) that they could do extraordinary things. Who knew what she might take into her head to do to them if she didn't get her way?

In fact, far from being a liability on this journey, she could be an asset.

She'd hidden her smile politely and kept her eyes seemingly on the road in front of them, as if she were entranced by something she found there. In actuality, her eyes were closed, and she was listening, not looking.

Yami's father had sketched a quick narrative on the history of the Tournaments, which dated back quite a long time, almost to the founding of the Kingdom. This particular section was general knowledge – everyone seemed to know what led up to the events, but nothing about the events themselves.

The first Tournament had been an attempt to unite the warring tribes that had settled in the area that would become the Kingdom under a single ruler. In current times, ambitious families who wished to ascend to power used it as a means to challenge the current status quo. Hand-to-hand combat, at least in the beginning, was the major component of the Tournaments. However, some time after, the Sibyls had revealed a major secret of the land in which they had settled. The land was at a crossroads of power that could connect to another realm in which there were actual spirits and creatures that, if they could be tamed, might be an asset in those ritualized battles.

The winning family at that next Tournament – Yami's family – had been the ruling family ever since. This was due mostly to the fact that, for some inexplicable reason, the members of their family traditionally had an extremely strong ability to access that other realm.

Isis smiled when the Pharaoh mentioned that, shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation. Her head was tilted slightly towards them and her hands lay motionless on the reins. Her mount was automatically following the procession, though it kept turning back to look at her mournfully, as if unsure that Isis, her rider, really wanted her to follow everyone else. They were still barely out of the city, luckily; if there had been very much open space around them, Isis' mount would probably have escaped and gotten lost. No one was particularly worried that Isis herself would get lost.

During the course of the conversation, Isis found herself filling in the gaps. As one of the Sibyls, she had a slight advantage over mere rulers and Pharaohs in the matter of history; the Sibyls kept meticulous records of everything that happened, often written down by various viewers to ensure impartiality. The first ruler had indeed managed to unite the warring tribes by means of the Tournaments, allowing one person – that was himself, and by extension, his family – to assert unquestionable and unarguable supremacy over all the other tribes that had settled in this one part of the land. This was due at least in part to the methods he employed during the Tournament.

Isis giggled silently. The man had _cheated_. After all, it wasn't all that difficult to win at hand-to-hand combat when all your opponents were crippled by things like dysentery or ulcers, the result of some rather tastefully and specially seasoned food. It was rather hard to be a good host in those days.

But there was no real point in revealing this to anyone; he would continue, after all, being the ultimate hero of the Kingdom, their savior, and their first Pharaoh.

The years after that first tournament had involved the Sibyls slowly integrating themselves into the lives of the people. They traveled extensively, working to heal the sick, predict the weather, teach children and act as advisors. In short, they made themselves useful. They would need (and had already done things that required it) the shield of gratitude for long service coupled with little reward in order to explain and cover up many of the more questionable actions of the Sibyls, every single time they were called upon to accomplish the purpose that had been laid upon them -

For the Sibyls had the unenviable duty of overseeing the souls that would change the world.

* * *

The Soul room did not look particularly remarkable. It was a simple cave, with shelves carved directly into its stone sides; within the Shrouded Mountain, there were many far more impressive rooms, such as the high, vaulted mess hall or the domed library. Those were places for rest and leisurely study; the Soul room was the place for work. 

It was, in fact, the absolute center of the lives of the Sibyl, though quite a few of them had lived their entire lives without once setting foot into it. In it was their duty, their goal, and their ambition. In it had lain the future, and futures, of the Kingdom.

The room wasn't crowded and it hadn't been for some time. It was, in fact, almost completely empty.

Amaryllis sat on the stone floor, alone. She tugged her dark purple cloak closer – the Soul room was colder than any other room in the entire complex and the light cloth and loose weave didn't do any more than take the slightest edge off the chill.

She remembered with a memory not her own. A memory of what the room had been like before, filled from end to end with the glittering souls of humanity, all lined up on the shelves, each in its own place. Of great Workings being done on the raw unfinished souls, of times when the entire awareness of the Sibyls were bent upon one single, pivotal soul, altering it just _so_, changing situations just a little bit _here_, ensuring that events would unfold as they were meant to.

People often equated Fate to a weaver, working with the many, multi-colored threads of life, spinning, dying, measuring…and cutting.

The Sibyls did not weave. They were the ones who maintained, who changed older threads for new ones, who renewed color, who kept the entire web from fraying and breaking apart.

Some of the Sibyls had wanted, _still_ wanted, to be weavers.

Amaryllis drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them. She was not exactly young, but she felt burdened by many more years than should have been her fair share. She had been there, when that most important Working had shattered, and then been delayed. She had been the one who had to visit the Queen Mother, and tell her what would happen.

She had been the one who had…killed…

She shook her head violently, as if the movement would shake the thoughts from where they had lodged themselves in her brain.

It didn't exactly help that so many of the other Sibyls had, well, _drifted_. Briale hadn't even attempted to be subtle about her aims. She didn't have to be; many Sibyls had long expressed the opinion that _they_ should be the ones in charge, not the nebulous power of Fate. The fact that, at this point, they were merely caretakers rather than administrators rankled many of them.

This had happened before, Amaryllis knew, still resting on the floor. And the effects of that particular rebellion had come to fruition here, in this time.

Because the result of it was that last Working, the one that the previous incarnation of Isis Ishtar, companion and adopted elder sister of the still-young Crown Prince, had apparently "ruined" and been murdered for.

And it was her fault.

In the deep, all-pervading quiet of the dark Soul room, Amaryllis cried.

* * *

Owari 

Endnotes: Just let me mess with people's minds some more…

Review, please?


	5. Chapter 5

Summary: In which we have father-son bonding, discussions of criminal motivation, and Bakura somehow wormed his way into this as a TEN YEAR OLD BOY! A sadistic ten year old, but a ten year old all the same.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Yugioh. I'm rather proud of the plot though. (hides)

Author's notes: Wah, Bakura scared me.

Red and Blue

Chapter 5

* * *

"Sir, we've arrived…" The guard at the front of the caravan trailed off when the Pharaoh caught his eye, shook his head and smiled slightly. Yami, though energetic and hyperactive like all ten-year olds seemed to be, had gotten tired of the rather slow, uneventful pace and the distance – the village was almost an entire morning's ride away, through several large patches of desert. He'd struggled valiantly for a time to stay awake but eventually gave up. His son's friend Jou (the Guard Captain's son, he remembered) had caught him before he'd fallen off his mount, and then, with the imperious manner all ten year olds seemed gifted with, called the Pharaoh over (The Pharaoh had had to hide his smile at the disapproving looks in the eyes of some of the courtiers who had come with him). He had then, overriding all protests (even from his own father), practically ordered the Pharaoh to allow Yami to ride with him, which he did. Yami was still rather small and light, so it had truly been no trouble, and the boy slept quite soundly. He had even enjoyed it; he had never had much of a chance to do such a thing with the boy when he'd been younger. 

He gently shook Yami awake. "Yami."

"Mmm?" The boy murmured endearingly, rubbing at his eyes. As he blinked them open, he shifted position and almost fell off.

"You should be more careful, Yami." The Pharaoh said calmly, still smiling, as he caught the boy and then set him down on the ground. "Did you have a good rest?" He asked, dismounting himself, and allowing one of the guards to lead it away.

"Oh…I'm sorry for falling asleep, Father, I…"

"I suppose I shouldn't have expected you to stay awake all the way through such a long boring ride. But you'll help me now, won't you, Yami?"

"Yes!" The boy said, all traces of sleepiness vanished. "I don't know how much I can actually do, but I'll help in any way I can." The Pharaoh chuckled silently at the determination in his eyes.

"Yami!" Jou called loudly, and then, seeming not to have noticed the conversation, raced in to catch Yami in an enthusiastic bear hug. "I hope you got a good nap, because you're coming with me to…"

"Jou…" Yami answered back more moderately, slightly embarrassed at being treated like such a child in front of the Pharaoh. "Umm…"

"Oh, sorry, your Majesty," Jou said, smiling, not at all embarrassed by being seen so in front of the ruler of the entire Kingdom. "I didn't realize you were right there."

"Quite all right, Katsuya" the Pharaoh shot back urbanely, still much more amused than angry at the boy's informality and hyperactive personality, though he was sure some of the protocol advisors at home would go into conniptions. "It's so nice to meet my son's friends…"

Jou's smile widened into a grin. "You wouldn't mind if I happened to kidnap your son for a while, would you, your Majesty?"

"I trust you to get him back in one piece, of course." Was all the Pharaoh said, though the expression on his face now mirrored Jounouchi's.

"I'm reasonably sure I can promise that, at the very least."

By now, Yami's face had turned quite red. "I can take care of myself…" He muttered as the two of them tried to keep from laughing.

"I won't let anything happen, your Majesty." The other boy said, still repressing mirth. "I can probably handle just about any danger out there but the ghosts."

That night, as the guards were setting up a fire, Yami was quiet, seemingly thinking deeply about something. Honda was doing a reconnaissance with his father, and Jounouchi was right there, with the rest of the Guard, helping (mostly) to start the fire.

The tour of the tombs that day had been interesting, to say the least, especially considering Jounouchi's antics. Luckily, members of the Guard tended to be pretty healthy – that was something of a requirement, after all – for if they hadn't been, one or two might have expired then and there from untimely heart attacks. As it was, while Yami listened in unobtrusively, there was a bit of good-humored teasing from the guards towards Jounouchi (and vice versa, of course) for his pranks that day, one of which had ended up nearly fatally dropping him down one of the trap pits within a tomb, had it not been for Yami's quick thinking and Honda's running. At least, it was good-humored until his father decided to join in.

" – Perhaps you could tell us exactly _why_ you thought it'd be funny to activate the traps in the tombs, Katsuya." The Captain of the Guard eyed his son speculatively. The commotion around the fire quieted down quickly.

Jou grimaced. "That's not what I _meant_ to do…"

His father continued as if he hadn't spoken, his voice sounding implacable. "And you are, of course, extremely lucky the Prince managed to keep you from falling into that one pit – "

"Well…"

" – especially since you could have pulled _him_ in as well," was the conclusion, in a quiet, worried, matter-of-fact tone that made it even more of a punishment than yelling would have.

Now the boy looked contrite. At the age of ten-going-on-eleven, the thought that he had possibly put others in danger as well had never really occurred to him.

"Never again, Katsuya. Understood? Please don't make me afraid for you again."

He nodded, eyes now wide in consternation.

"Good." His father nodded then, satisfied. The conversation then went on into less serious topics and Yami's attention wandered again. He was peripherally aware of Jou coming near him and dropping down to sit next to him, but gave it little notice. Thus, he was confused when Jou began to speak.

"I am, you know."

"What?" Normally, Yami didn't need explanations when Jou started speaking in the middle of a thought; they were close enough that clarifications were seldom needed, but Yami himself was feeling rather distracted.

"Sorry, I mean." Jou continued, and now Yami understood.

"It's really all right, Jou," the shorter boy said earnestly. "We're both okay, aren't we?"

"But what if –"

"Once you say 'what if'," Yami interrupted, "it doesn't matter, because it _didn't_ happen."

"That's true; but !"

"'But' it didn't happen," repeated Yami.

Jou sighed. "Right." And then they just sat in companionable silence.

"I've been thinking…" Yami paused and waited for Jou's trademark reply: 'Well, it's about time.'

And then Jou surprised him. "What about?"

"The Tombs, mostly. About how sad it is, that, in the end, all we are can be shut in a place like this, protected against invasion. Away from people, from sunshine, from everything outside. And then to be disturbed by people coming in, caring nothing for you – probably not even _knowing_ about you – and your life, just to steal…"

"That _is_ sad, isn't it?"

Yami nodded, still staring pensively into the fire. "That's all I thought it was at first. So I was angry with the tomb robbers. How dare they come in to disturb them? Why do they constantly go where they are not wanted?"

"Because of what's there; we saw some of it, even: the gold and jewelry. And we have to keep the tomb robbers from it, that's why there are all those traps…" Jou trailed off at that; Yami was shaking his head.

"All we're worried about is keeping them out. Shouldn't the real question be: 'why are there tomb robbers in the first place'? _Why_ do they steal? Maybe if we can fix that, there won't be any more tomb robbers and all of these pharaohs can rest in peace… We won't have to worry about traps…"

Jou smiled then. "And I wouldn't have fallen in? Is that what set you off?"

Yami's face lost its serious expression then to be replaced by a look of pure mischief. "Now that was one thing I didn't think about…"

"He'd probably find some way to get hurt anyway." Honda said from behind them, shamelessly eavesdropping.

"Honda!" The two exclaimed simultaneously, jumping up and turning to face him.

"You're back already?"

"What did you see?"

"You better not have gotten into a fight with some tomb robbers without me!"

"Was there anything out there?"

"And did you… hey! What do you mean, 'I'd find some way to get hurt anyway'?"

The other boy shrugged. "You would. It's a fact of life. Katsuya Jounouchi, clumsy enough to fall into a pit that isn't there…"

"Why you !" Jou said angrily.

"Calm down, you two." Yami sighed as he dropped to sit down again, gesturing for the other two to sit as well. "How was the reconnaissance?"

"I never realized how interesting deserts were before." Honda made a face at him. "Sand just about everywhere you look…"

"We've got that back home too, dimwit."

"Shut it, you. Anyway, I was serious; there are all these animals and such that only come out at night. It's not even as quiet as you'd expect; I think I'll have a crick in my neck from twisting around so many times. It's also pretty cold…"

"Really?" Yami asked with interest.

"In the _desert_?" Jounouchi muttered almost right after, with scorn.

Honda raised an eyebrow at him. "Tell you what, we'll trade next time. _I'll_ stay here by the warm fire, and _you_ can go out into the cold nighttime desert to jump at every strange sound you hear." As Jou sputtered indignantly, Honda turned back to Yami. "About what you were talking about earlier – you know, the tomb robbers? – they might have to steal to support their families or eat themselves. There are people like that even back home, though much fewer than out here."

"They might have been hired too," Jou contributed, having gotten over the previous insult.

"Or…"

Engaged in their conversation, the three didn't notice the shadows in the distance, though quite a few of the Guard did. Most of them ran off to inform the rest of the retinue, while the two of the Guards who remained behind approached the boys.

"I still don't think that's why the tomb robbers…" Yami's voice trailed off as he looked up at one of the worried-looking guards.

"Your Highness," one of them said respectfully, "the three of you need to come with us."

Jou frowned for a moment as he tried to recall the Guard's name. "Is something wrong, Tamsin?"

"_Please_."

Yami looked thoughtful, and then nodded. "Right. We should go, Jou, Honda."

The three boys followed the now-relieved Guards to the rest of the retinue. And when Yami looked at the Pharaoh, already himself surrounded by a large contingent of the Guard, he saw him smile at the sight of the three of them safe.

* * *

"I promise you, it will only be for a little while longer…" The boy looked pleadingly at the monster facing him on the sand. All around him was the boisterous commotion of a camp of thieves preparing for a successful raid. The boy barely winced as some old crockery shattered close to him, his soft brown eyes still locked on the monster facing him. 

Monster was perhaps the wrong word to use. It stood only slightly taller than the boy and could probably have passed for a human – albeit a strange one – were it not for the fact that it seemed to glow slightly in the waning desert sun. It was clothed all in black – a hat that sat slightly askew on its head, and a black dress – though the decision seemed to stem less from a tendency to melodrama than an innate trait; it was impossible to imagine it in anything other than black. It had long, straw-colored hair, framing a feminine-looking face. Its face was blankly ordinary, save for the eyes – one blue, one red. The Fire Sorcerer.

Finally, it seemed to agree. It made an affirmative motion, and the boy sighed, reassured. "Would you tell the others for me too?"

Another affirmative, and the boy closed his eyes. "Thank you." When he opened them again, it had gone.

"Boy!" A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him roughly around.

The boy blinked, and somehow, in that space of time, seemed to turn into a completely different person. "Get your hands off me." He said softly, almost menacingly, glaring at the man with eyes like ice.

The thief scowled but still let go. "The boss says to get you ready; there's a big group down by the tombs. Rich, too, by the look of them."

"And how much assistance will you need today?" The boy inquired not quite courteously; the polite, business-words were relayed in a frosty, and to the thief, supercilious tone.

"Listen, boy…" The thief raised a hand angrily and brought it down towards the boy's face.

The next moment, he was lying on his back, gripping his arm in pain.

"I wouldn't try that again, Verun." The boy turned, wiping his hands fastidiously on his loose clothing. "At least not…"

"What happened here? Bakura, are you…" The leader of thieves, a dark-skinned and dark-haired man, had noticed the commotion. He stopped at the sight of the older man lying on the sand in pain. "Well, Verun, you've finally gotten what you deserved, after all this time. Come, Bakura. We need to plan out the attack. Half an hour until nightfall…"

"Yes, sir." Bakura turned obediently to follow.

"Stupid little boy." Verun muttered as the two passed his prone body. The leader did not hear him, though Bakura did. He stopped and turned to look at him.

"Ah, yes. The sentence I had meant to finish. 'At least not while I'm still so useful.' Because I _am_ useful, you fool, unlike certain others I could mention. Though," and here he bent slightly and lowered his voice, with the air of one imparting a secret, "I don't plan on remaining so forever."

"You'd turn traitor on us? We took you in…"

"The lot of you turned on _me_ long before. Did you think I didn't _know_ that you were only using me?"

Lying in the sand, Verun said nothing, though his eyes were murderous.

Bakura simply laughed. "I'm not afraid of whatever consequence you think I'll get from this. I'm more than capable of defending myself. My best wishes in the healing of your arm. It was a clean break, as I'm sure any healer will testify. What you may have trouble explaining is exactly how a _ten-year-old boy_ managed to break your arm."

"Bakura?"

"I'm coming, sir," the boy called in answer, and then turned back to the injured man. "I hope it aches whenever it gets cold – this is the desert though, so that'd be about every night. Just a little memento of me, Verun. I don't plan on staying long enough to be anything more than a memory."

He straightened and strolled easily towards the main tent, where the leader of the tomb robbers was waiting.

* * *

Owari 

Endnotes: I hope I didn't freak anyone out too much. And I'm making up stupid names left and right. Yay.

Review, please?


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